Chapter 7
Timothy hadn't slept very well Sunday night out of excitement. Being able to sit at a table next to Angela soon, working on his papers, filled his heart with pleasant anticipation. His marketing thesis had a higher priority than the literature paper because his scholarship and eventually his college degree depended on it. Going without baseball for a couple of weeks wasn't really bothering him, all the more if he was allowed to spend time with Angela instead. The training deficit wouldn't be a problem either; he was by far the team's best player and would easily qualify for a higher division, if not the premier league. To become a professional ballplayer one day was his big dream, and actually, he wouldn't need a college degree for it. But his ambition had been incited, and the way his coaching teacher respectively teaching coach believed in him had given him the amount of self-esteem needed to give it a try. Besides, he would love to prove his father wrong who had once told him that he was not smart enough for college.
They would start with working at the ad campaign, this much Timothy had already decided. And because he didn't want to be at a complete loss, he had spent the entire weekend catching up with all the marketing textbooks he had neglected so far. He had watched TV until late at night, hoping he would come across some soap commercials which could generate a few ideas for his own. Never before had he worked with so much vigor and diligence for college ... she had already made him a better student!
Once in a while, his thoughts had been wandering from marketing to Tony and Angela in the mountains though. The perception of what the two of them might be doing had haunted him. Would they go for a hike? Would they be having a picnic? Would they be sleeping in a tent? Would they make ... ? Yes, they definitely would! Every time he thought about it, an irresistible urge to swing at the punching bag in the room he shared with a rather sociable law student had overcome him. He had fallen in love, there was no use in denying it. He had been in relationships with women before but all of them had rather consisted of physical attraction and lust only; on both sides. He had never felt that warmth sharing the company of a woman, that exhilaration thinking of her and urging pain being separated from her.
The young man was standing in front of her door for more than ten minutes now, checking his watch incessantly. Did it move slower today just to tease him? He didn't want to be too soon for he didn't want Angela to notice how lovelorn and impatient he was. Then, finally, the minute hand hit the six on the clock-face; it was half half past three. With all the self-discipline he had he managed to wait another another five minutes, then he knocked at the door. It opened and there she stood, but she was in a condition he hadn't anticipated at all. Angela was pale and her eyes were red. Her hair had been tied carelessly into a ponytail, she wore some baggy sweat pants and a shirt with an imprint saying "Wells College" which was far too big; it obviously belonged to the Coach.
"Oh, Timothy it's you, come on in", she said with a weak voice. Then a cough attack struck her and she turned her back towards him.
"Angela? Are you alright?" he asked although it was quite obvious that she wasn't. She slowly scuffed to the couch and let herself fall onto it powerlessly.
"No, not really. I think I've caught a solid cold in the mountains."
Alright! Maybe he had tortured himself for nothing, imagining what they might have done out there in that secluded little nature reserve? Maybe they hadn't done anything? Maybe their romantic weekend hadn't exactly been a success? Not that he wished for Angela to be sick but his fantasies of them enjoying the landscape, holding hands while hiking through the mountains, and snuggling up against each other at night, had broken his sleep repeatedly.
"Oh dear, so you couldn't enjoy your weekend then?" he said, hoping to see his assumptions confirmed.
"Oh no, it was wonderful!" 'Darn, why did I even ask', he chided himself. "I never thought I could enjoy seclusion so much. There wasn't a soul to be seen. It was so nicely warm at day, only the nights in the tent were a bit cold. Luckily, I didn't get sick until Sunday afternoon." If they had left on their clothes at night and had stayed in their thick sleeping bags, then maybe the cold wouldn't have bothered her so much. Tony had carried ang only the best of equipment for her in his huge backpack. They had tried to be sensible but just couldn't leave their fingers off each other. Angela thought back to their intimate togetherness in that little tent under the starlit sky and a blissful smile hushed across her face, a smile which Timothy noticed only too well. He gritted his teeth and needed to inhale deeply a few times to get his pulse back under control which jealousy had pushed up to an excessive rate.
"Angela, would you prefer to relax? We can start some other time", Timothy offered.
"Oh no, no need for that. I've headed board meetings in conditions much worse than this. I'm fine. I promised to help you and this I'm going to do. Show me what you have." She sat on the couch and beckoned him over. "Unless you're afraid to pick up my cold."
Timothy sat down right beside her. "My immune system is pretty good, Angela. Don't you worry." And even if it wasn't, he wouldn't mind. He definitely wouldn't leave just because she was spreading some germs. He put his backpack on his lap, took his papers out, and laid them on the little coffee table. Angela sneezed. "Are you sure you want to have a look at this? I'm afraid it's pretty bad", he warned her.
"I am sure! I've already been presented all kinds of trash by highly decorated art directors, I won't be shocked so easily. And I don't think that your stuff is that bad. You are an intelligent and sensitive person, I bet you came up with some good ideas." She smiled at him which made Timothy instantly feel warm all over. This was the way she saw him; 'intelligent' - okay, 'sensitive' - wonderful! He would show her how sensitive he could be.
"First, I'm going to make a nice, hot cup of tea for you. You stay here, I'll find my way around the kitchen", he ordered her. He didn't let an opportunity to care for her slip just like this.
Five minutes later he came out of the kitchen with a huge mug of tea he had sweetened with honey and sat beside Angela. She had already browsed through Timothy's papers. She was completely in her element and had almost forgotten that this was only a college paper and not a client's assignment worth millions of dollars. She had a look at the storyboards, at the written concept and the task the marketing professor had set for his students. Then she skimmed Timothy's text, frowned shortly, and finally looked him in the eye over the top of her glasses.
"Well, that's not too bad for a start", Angela said confidently.
All at once, she felt much better. As president of the Bower Agency she had loathed it when a disease kept her away from work, especially in its early stages of development. If she had to stay in bed due to a fever - Tony could be quite rigid as a nurse - she had always had some files on her lap and the phone within her arm's reach. However, most of the time she had dragged herself into the office and had managed to ignore her ailments by focussing on her work. It was amazing how much power her mind had over her body. Then, on the train ride home to Fairfield, exhaustion had taken the better of her inevitably, and when Tony had picked her up at the station she had felt so lousy and weak that she had literally fallen into his arms. Tony had always nursed her back to health for the upcoming day; eventually, he had given up to warn his boss that some day her body would be drained and quit the service. She was a workaholic, she loved her work, assumed responsibility for her clients and staff, and didn't concede herself any weakness.
"You really think so?" Timothy asked. "How do you like it so far?"
"Hmmm, ..." Angela thought for a moment. Opposite her sat a student, not a staff member with a marketing degree of a top-ranking university whom she paid a lot of money. To such a person, she would have been able to say something quite different. She expected a top performance from everyone, always. Just like she expected it from herself, always. "Well, there are some smart ideas in there you can pursue but there are also some we have to talk about", she told him diplomatically. "But don't you worry, we'll manage." That had always been one of her strengths as an executive - she critiqued but she also motivated, she always argued objectively and was never disdainful or unfair. Her employees greatly appreciated this about their boss. That was why she not only missed her agency but was also sadly missed by her staff in return, even by her mother who, of course, would never admit it.
"Okay, where do we start?" Timothy was ready.
They had talked about marketing for roughly two and a half hours. Angela knew how to get her mentee on the right track by asking him pointed questions. She would have been able to come up with a concept within half a day, a concept so skillful it would make the eyes of Timothy's professor pop out of his head, but that wasn't the general idea. Not only did she want to prevent Timothy's expulsion from college, she also wanted to teach him something about her business. Therefore he had to earn the merits himself, Angela wasn't willing to take the effort from his shoulders. She drilled him with technical questions, which he could have answered, had he at least once in a while listened to what the professor had talked about during his lectures. Timothy was glad he had read up on the most important basics and didn't look like a complete moron. This wouldn't be a stroll through the park, that much he had already realized. Sweat began to form on his forehead; he usually didn't use his brain for such a long time, focussing on a single topic. Until now, he had always relied on his ability to compensate for his poor scholastic achievements with his extraordinary performance on the baseball field. But this didn't suffice any more. The Coach had made it clear that he saw himself as Timothy's professor first and his primary goal was to push him through college, make sure he got a degree. Timothy was surprised by this attitude. It had never happened to him before that an adult cared about his future, not even his father had done so. Now there was this person who saw more in him than the gifted player he needed to push the team to the next division. Timothy was grateful for this and seeing Tony willing to sacrifice his own dream for his sake, barring him from the team until he turned in a fairly well-written literature paper, only added to his feeling of guilt. Why did this gorgeous woman have to be exactly his fiancée?
"What is essential in the development of an advertising campaign? ... Timothy? Angela tried to pull him out of his trance. "Hello! Are you still here?"
Timothy slightly shook his head to get the Coach out of his head. How did he get in there? He wasn't helpful at the moment.
"Sorry, ... uhm yes, I'm here. What did you ask?" He smiled guiltily and Angela had to laugh.
"I guess that should be enough for today. We've accomplished quite a bit." She put her hand on his shoulder in an appreciative gesture. Timothy hardly breathed for sheer excitement. 'I hope she leaves it there forever', he wished silently but was disappointed all too soon when another cough attack hit Angela and she turned away from him. The cough churned her entire body, Timothy noticed how hard she had to struggle. So he mustered all his courage and for his part laid his hand gently on her back - and he didn't plan on taking it away so quickly.
"Everything alright, Angela? Can I help you?"
She nodded and pointed to a little carton on the dinner table. It contained a small inhaler like the one his younger sister had who suffered from asthma. He grabbed the carton - he had to take away his hand from her back to be able to do that - took the inhaler out, removed the cap and gave it to Angela. Then he put his hand on her arm, he didn't give up that easily. In a short coughing pause she put the inhaler to her mouth and took two deep breaths. After that, her coughing slowly died away. Timothy became bolder, almost daring.
"Are you feverish?" was now his worry and without being asked he laid his hand on her forehead. He had never been this close to her before.
"I don't know. ... Your hand is nice and cold, Timothy", Angela replied weakly.
Timothy startled a little and pulled his hand back quickly. Angela's forehead was burning like fire. Had he asked too much from her in his boundless desire to keep her company? He chided himself. He should have left her in peace, he had seen that she wasn't well.
"You are running a fever, a very high fever! Let me get you a damp cloth to cool your forehead. Prop up your legs, I'll get you a blanket" He looked around the apartment until he spotted a pile of afghans. He took the uppermost and covered Angela's body with it. Then he went into the kitchen, took the first kitchen towel he saw, soaked it in the sink and joined Angela in the living room. She was lying on the sofa now, her eyes closed, and he could hear dry gasps from her breathing. He put the cold towel on her forehead which only elicited a grateful "mmmm, ...".
Then Angela opened her eyes and smiled at Timothy. "Thank you, that's good. I guess it hit me much stronger than I thought."
Timothy once again laid his hand on her arm. "I should've left right away instead of bothering you with my lousy scribble."
"Nonsense, I'm a big girl, I can decide for myself, Timothy. I had fun brainstorming with you about your campaign. I haven't had such an inspiring and entertaining Monday afternoon in a long time. I'm looking forward to our next meeting at the end of the week", she assured him.
Timothy's heart leaped with joy. He was exhilarated and couldn't think of anything else to say than "nice afghans you have there", and mentally spanked himself for such a stupid remark.
"What? Oh yes. That's been one of my afternoon diversions so far. We've got so many I already thought about making a business out of it", Angela commented scornfully. "If you like them, take one home. Just pick one", and with a lot of sarcasm in her voice she added, "there's lots."
There was no need for a second offer. Not that he really liked the afghans that much but she had knitted them, it was a personal gift from her to him. He would take this blanket back to his room on campus, would snuggle up in it and dream about the day he would be wrapped up by her arms and not only her blanket.
"Timothy? Would you please soak the cloth once again? I feel like I'm burning." Angela held the towel out to him.
He checked her forehead again and was alarmed, her temperature seemed to have risen within these few minutes. He ran into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and looked for ice cubes. He took a handful out, wrapped the damp kitchen towel around them and went back to Angela. He knelt on the floor beside her head and dabbed her forehead with the cold cloth.
"I'm worried now, Angela. You're running a very high fever, I think. Shall I call a doctor?"
"No, don't. Tony will be here any minute, he'll nurse me back to health", Angela appeased, "he's very experienced in taking care of me."
As if on cue the door opened and Tony entered the apartment. At first, he didn't even notice Angela and Timothy. Calmly, he put his briefcase on the floor next to the door, loosened his tie and opened the uppermost button of his shirt, pulled off his jacket and hung it at the coat rack. He was on his way to the kitchen to get an after-work beer when he suddenly saw them; Angela lying on the sofa covered by an afghan and Timothy kneeling in front of her, his hand on her forehead. What kind of a situation was this? What were they doing there? But then he quickly realized what was going on. Angela didn't look good at all. Last night, when they had returned from their wonderful mountain tour, she had started coughing, and this morning she had looked at him with puffy eyes and had been sneezing endlessly. He had asked her whether she needed something from the pharmacy before he went to work but she had refused. She hated being sick for it meant being weak and dependant on others, that wasn't her cup of tea. Tony knew her that well after all these years.
"Angela, Sweetheart, what's the matter?" Timothy could read the Coach's worries in his eyes as well as his care and love for Angela, and he just hoped that his own feelings weren't written all over his face equally plainly.
"She's very feverish, Coach. When I came here she was still alright and insisted on starting with my paper", Timothy defended himself.
"That's the way she is", Tony concurred. "She doesn't like to be told by her body to shift down a gear. It's always been like this and will forevermore." He shook his head. How often had he been forced to downright forbid Angela to go to the office sick? Sometimes he had even disconnected the phone to give her a few hours of sleep without any disturbing calls from the office. He also had to think about the year he had carried her out of the house on his shoulder, almost kidnapping her for a holiday, only to make her recharge her battery. Unfortunately, she had been fired by Wallace & McQuade in the aftermath, which had proved to be a lucky fate later on, for it had been the starting shot for the Bower Agency. Needless to say that with her own business she was even less willing to take a time-out.
Another one of these remarks which let Timothy freeze. It was obvious how well the Coach knew Angela, how much they had been through together. Like when she had said earlier she didn't need a doctor because he would be home soon. He envied the way they shared each other's life. Timothy felt like the proverbial fifth wheel, so he began to pack his notes and papers into his backpack. He had stuffed the afghan in earlier and was glad that the Coach wouldn't notice Angela had given him one as a present.
"I better hit the road", he said. "Get well soon, Angela. And thanks a lot for your help today."
Angela opened her eyes and sat up a bit. A tired smile showed up on her face. "You're welcome, Timothy. I hope I haven't given you my cold." As if to prove it she badly sneezed three times.
"Bless you!" Tony and Timothy said in unison.
"Thanks to both of you ... Ugh, Timothy, I want you to summarize what we've talked about today. Write the introduction to your thesis, that is to say the technical part. And be deliberate! Five pages at least. We'll fine-tune it next time, then we're going to have a look at your ideas for the campaign. Okay?!" She started coughing again and collapsed backwards on the sofa.
"It's enough now, Angela", Tony threw in now in a stern tone. "You lie down and relax. Timothy will manage, I'm sure." With this he turned around to him and said, "Please, you have to go now, Timothy. Thanks for caring for Angela." 'How come I have to thank him for doing this over and over again?' went through Tony's mind. 'Why is this guy always on the spot when Angela is in need?' Tony didn't track this thought any further because he was worried too much about Angela at the moment. He stroked her hair lovingly and gently touched her feverish cheeks.
"Alright, Coach." Timothy turned to Angela and said, "I won't disappoint you, Angela."
"I know, Timothy, I know", she said faintly with closed eyes.
Timothy grabbed the backpack with his precious treasure inside and left the apartment. Upon stepping out on the street, a brisk wind was blowing right into his face but from the inside he burned as if he himself was running a fever. No, he definitely wouldn't disappoint her! He would put as much effort into this project as never before, just to make her happy. She was his mentor, and he would prove to be worth the trouble. Maybe he would even be allowed to work for her agency one day.
Angela was sick for the entire week. She had picked up a solid flu, with a high fever and a benign pneumonia. Tony could have spanked himself for not having persuaded her to stay in her sleeping bag warmly dressed in her functional hiking underwear when she had rolled over to him in their tent on their second night and had started nibbling at his earlobe. His libido had taken over control too quickly for him to even have a chance to talk her out of the exchange of tender loving care. So they hadn't spent the night in a protecting, warm cocoon made of down, but had been exposed to the freezing cold of the night, only being watered-down by the increase of their body temperature due to physical activity. The least Tony had done was covering Angela with one of the sleeping bags once she had fallen asleep with her head on his chest, but it hadn't really protected her from the cold. When Angela had woken up on Sunday morning, she had been shivering all over and had felt as if she had spent the night in a fridge.
Tony limited his attendance at campus to what was absolutely necessary, and that were his classes. He cancelled all team meetings and student appointments to be able to look after Angela. He discussed the training program with his team briefly, appointed of the most reliable player as his assistant coach unceremoniously and appealed to their sense of responsibility to work through the entire routine properly without him. As soon as he was back in the apartment, his complete attention belonged to his patient. 'Do I need to be half dead to make him care about me?' Angela asked herself at some point but most of the time she just enjoyed his touching effort and loving care. He cooked chicken soup with a lot of garlic, one of the best known domestic remedies, monitored her use of the prescribed medication, kept her company and supervised her sleep.
For Timothy, this week was like hell. Not only because the Coach had cancelled his appointment with Angela which they had already scheduled for the end of the week - this alone was as worse as it could be - but also because he was truly worried about her. There was no joking around with an influenza, that wasn't just a harmless cold. This was a complete unfamiliar sensation for him; to worry about a woman, to empathize this much with her, and to wish for nothing else but her felling better. Was this love? Apparently. However, he knew she had a dedicated male nurse. Timothy had witnessed more than once the way Tony cared for an injured player. He wouldn't leave his side until the team doctor gave him a satisfying diagnosis, even if it meant he would have to accompany both to the hospital. The Coach had always acted like a mother hen which looked after her chicks; Timothy and his team mates had amused themselves about it only until one of them sat at the sideline with a pain-contorted face. In moments like this everyone was glad that the Coach didn't leave them alone. He would monitor Angela's recovery without a gap, Timothy was absolutely sure about that. And he felt relieved.
It was Friday and Timothy's last chance to ask Tony about Angela's current state of health. He didn't dare to drop by for an unannounced sick bed visit and even to call her seemed a bit pushy. So, after the history lecture Timothy joined Tony at the desk where he was pushing together his notes to tuck them into his briefcase.
"Coach?
Tony looked up. "Timothy. What's up?"
"How's Angela doing?"
There was something in the way Timothy inquired about Angela that Tony didn't like. It had sounded so deeply worried, so compassionate. Was that normal for someone being tutored?
"She's feeling better. Thanks for asking." He thought he had answered the question and Timothy would leave but he didn't move. "Something else?"
The young man looked on the ground. He knew it would've been wiser to bite back the next question but he simply had to know. "What do you think, when will it be possible for me to come over again?"
One look into his counterpart's face showed him he should have listened to his gut instinct. Tony narrowed his eyes to slits and scrutinized him. The lecture hall had emptied by now, only the two of them were left, which was okay for Tony but made Timothy very uneasy. Why the hell hadn't he kept his mouth shut?
"Timothy, ... I really appreciate you finally showing some scholastic ambition but you have to give Angela enough time to cure this flu completely. Besides, I don't want you to monopolize her that much. I've told you about this tutoring program, the one our college offers, remember? You could get enrolled. Angela has some other things to do than tutoring my students."
'And what would that be? Knitting afghans?' Timothy would've liked to ask him reproachfully but this time his inner alert system worked and he kept the question to himself. But he didn't understand this man. Didn't he see that his fiancée was bored to death? Did he really expect her to give up her terrific, exciting live in New York to go camping with him in this wasteland here? Maybe that was exactly what went wrong between those two, because that their relationship wasn't running perfectly smooth was all too obvious by now. That could be his chance to strengthen the delicate bond he had tied so far. If he could show Angela that he indeed understood her, that he was interested in her work and admired her, then they might find a common basis to build a much deeper friendship on ... and maybe even some other kind of relationship. But to be able to do that he needed to talk to her in private, without the Coach being present and looking over his shoulder. 'Be patient, Timothy', he urged himself. First, she ought to get well again. He would postpone his Jane Austen paper furthermore to remain expelled from the team, then a meeting with her might come along in the upcoming week.
"Okay Coach, I'll get some information about it", he lied. Never ever would he trade his very attractive personal mentor for some elderly nerd with a moustache and spectacles.
"Alright Timothy. You should enroll at least for literature. I guess Angela wouldn't like to hand over the reigns with your marketing paper. I'm pretty sure she'll get into contact with you as soon as she's recovered."
Had Tony anticipated that Timothy understood his last remark as an approval for being allowed to meet Angela again, he would've clarified unambiguously that he didn't want anybody to fish in his pond. He would've told him that Angela belonged to him, that he loved and adored her, that their relationship was based on longstanding friendship and trust, that they knew each other inside out, that he couldn't imagine his life without her, and that he wouldn't let anybody take her away from him ... especially not a twenty-three year-old half-baked college student. But he uttered none of these thoughts, he only watched Timothy as he turned around and left the lecture hall without another word.
Tony remained behind and tried to sort out his thoughts. He was bewildered and confused but couldn't really tell why, he was afflicted by a queasy feeling he couldn't explain. Why had all this been crossing his mind? Why had he hardly been able to suppress his desire to shake this boy and tell him outright "Keep your hands off Angela!"? He had always liked Timothy, had supported him, had recognized a bit of himself in him. He knew that the boy had much more potential than his father gave him credit for. What was the matter with him? He acted differently lately when he was around, seemed to be tense when their paths crossed coincidently. And why for heaven's sake didn't he do his utmost to return to the team? Baseball was his passion after all, wasn't it?
Tony just started to follow that last train of thoughts when the school bell chimed and pulled him out of his musings. The next class was waiting for him, so this one notion which had just piped up from his subconscious, the notion that Timothy always was with Angela while he was on the baseball field, this particular notion fell back into the depths of his contemplations and remained unanswered.
For now.